I Wanted To Hurt You - Dr. Robby x Female Reader
Summary - a year into a relationship means you both know how to hurt one another.
Mature Read**
Masterlist
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The elevator ride up to the cardiothoracic floor felt twice as long as usual, which was saying something considering PTMCâs elevators already moved like they were being powered by exhausted interns manually hauling ropes somewhere above the ceiling. You stood near the back corner with your coffee balanced carefully in one hand and your work bag hanging off your shoulder, staring numbly at the glowing floor numbers while two surgical residents beside you whispered frantically over pre-op notes for a valve replacement later that morning. Normally you would have jumped in by now, offered reassurance or a correction or at least some sarcastic remark to cut through the tension, but your head was still back in your apartment three hours earlier with Robby standing barefoot in the kitchen in gray sweatpants and a wrinkled black t-shirt looking just as angry as you felt.
âYou donât get to decide whatâs reckless for me,â you had snapped while shoving containers of untouched leftovers around in the fridge harder than necessary.
âAnd you donât get to pretend youâre invincible because youâre good at your job,â he had fired back immediately. âYou scared the hell out of me yesterday.â
âOh my God, Robby, Iâm a surgeon. I take risks every single day.â
âAnd Iâm an ER attending who watched you nearly pass out after a fourteen-hour surgery because you forgot to eat again.â
You had laughed then, sharp and humorless. âYou know what? I really donât need another father.â
The second the words left your mouth, you saw it hit him. Robby had gone completely still, jaw tightening hard enough to flex beneath the stubble on his face. It should have ended there. One of you should have backed down. One of you should have apologized.
Instead he grabbed his keys from the counter and said quietly, âFine,â before walking out of the apartment while rain hammered against the windows hard enough to shake the glass.
The elevator dinged. You blinked hard and stepped out into the hallway, immediately greeted by the familiar controlled chaos of the surgical floor waking up for the day. Nurses moved quickly between stations, monitors beeped steadily in patient rooms, and somewhere down the hall a resident was already getting torn apart by Dr. Alvarez before seven-thirty in the morning. Normal. Everything felt painfully normal while your chest still ached with unresolved anger.
âOkay, either somebody died or you and hot ER doctor finally murdered each other.â
You looked up to find Sara leaning against the nursesâ station with a chart tucked under one arm and an eyebrow raised knowingly at you. Sara had worked with you for almost four years now, which unfortunately meant she knew your moods almost as well as Robby did.
âI donât know what youâre talking about,â you muttered.
Sara snorted immediately. âSweetheart, you walked past me without insulting my coffee order. Thatâs how I know itâs bad.â
You sighed tiredly and dropped your bag beside your office chair before rubbing both hands over your face. âWe had a fight.â
âA bad one?â
âThe kind where you replay it in your head in the shower and think of twelve better comebacks.â
âOh, definitely bad then.â
Despite yourself, your mouth twitched slightly. Sara softened a little at that.
âWhat happened?â she asked more gently.
You hesitated because saying it out loud suddenly made it feel stupid. Small. Embarrassingly human compared to the life-and-death decisions both you and Robby made every day.
âHe thinks I push myself too hard,â you admitted finally. âI think heâs being overprotective and controlling. We both said things we shouldnât have.â
Sara made a face. âAh. The classic âI love you so much Iâm going to become incredibly annoying about your well-beingâ fight.â
You dropped heavily into your chair. âHe compared me to one of his trauma patients yesterday because I skipped meals during surgery.â
âOof.â
âExactly.â
âBut,â Sara said carefully while setting down a stack of charts, âdid you skip meals during surgery?â
You glared at her.
Sara lifted both hands immediately. âOkay, okay. Not taking sides. I enjoy living.â
You leaned back in your chair with a long exhale, staring up at the ceiling tiles. The worst part was that underneath all the anger sat the unbearable truth that Robby had not been entirely wrong. Yesterdayâs surgery had been brutal. Nine hours on your feet during a complicated aortic reconstruction and by the end of it your vision had briefly blurred badly enough that one of your fellows noticed. Robby had happened to see you afterward downstairs in the ED grabbing crackers from a vending machine with shaking hands and that had apparently been the final straw for him. Still. He did not get to talk to you like you were fragile.
âYou know whatâs irritating?â you said quietly. âHe does this thing where he gets calm when heâs angry.â
Sara barked out a laugh. âThat man weaponizes disappointment like a Catholic mother.â
âExactly.â
âAnd what did you do?â
You paused. âI told him I didnât need another father.â
Saraâs expression immediately shifted into horrified sympathy. âOh no.â
âYeah.â
âOh, honey.â
âI know.â
The guilt hit fresh all over again because you knew about Robbyâs father. You knew exactly how complicated that wound still was for him, even after all these years. You had aimed for the softest part of him because he had found yours first. That was the ugly reality of loving someone long enough to know precisely how to hurt them.
Before Sara could say anything else, one of the residents rushed toward you holding a tablet. âDr. Y/L/N, they moved your ten oâclock up. Patientâs crashing labs just came back.â
You straightened immediately, slipping back into work mode with practiced ease even while exhaustion still dragged at your bones. âShow me.â
Sara watched quietly as your expression sharpened into focus while reviewing the chart. It always amazed people how quickly you transformed once patient care entered the equation. The warmth softened into steel. The exhaustion disappeared behind precision. It was one of the things Robby loved most about you. Which somehow made this all hurt worse.
As you stood and started walking briskly toward pre-op, Sara called after you carefully, âYou know heâs probably miserable too, right?â
Your steps faltered just slightly. Because that was the problem. You knew. You knew Robby was probably downstairs right now pretending to chart while drinking terrible coffee and snapping at med students because he hadnât slept either. You knew he was stubborn enough not to text first after a fight this bad. You knew he would still show up outside an OR instantly if someone told him you got hurt. You knew if your pager went off right now for an emergency consult in the ED, both of you would fall into step beside each other like muscle memory no matter how angry you still were. And honestly, that might have been the hardest part of all.
******
By two-thirty that afternoon, the storm outside had worsened enough that rain battered the ER ambulance bay doors in violent waves, turning the entire emergency department gray with reflected light and soaked paramedics. You had just finished dictating post-op notes from your morning surgery when your pager vibrated sharply against your hip.
ED CONSULT. TRAUMA TWO. POSSIBLE AORTIC INVOLVEMENT.
Your stomach sank immediately. Not because of the case. God knew you had handled worse. But because Trauma Two belonged to Robby today. For one brief, childish second, you considered calling one of the other attendings downstairs instead. Alvarez. Walsh. Literally anyone else. But the moment passed just as quickly because a patient with a potential thoracic aortic injury did not give a damn about your relationship problems. So you shoved your tablet under your arm, grabbed your coat, and headed toward the elevator with your jaw tight enough to ache.
The ED was chaos when you arrived. It always was during storms. The waiting room overflowed with coughing patients and soaked families while somewhere down the hall a psych patient screamed obscenities loud enough to echo off the walls. Nurses moved quickly between bays, residents clustered around computer stations trying not to drown, and over all of it sat that familiar underlying tension of emergency medicine operating three disasters away from collapse at all times. You barely made it through the ambulance bay doors before hearing Robbyâs voice.
âPressureâs dropping again. Start another unit and somebody call CT back because if they lose my scan again Iâm walking upstairs and haunting radiology personally.â
The sound of him hit you physically before you even saw him. You hated that. You hated that your body still recognized him instantly even when you were furious with him. Then you turned the corner into Trauma Two and there he was.
Robby stood near the bedside in black scrubs with a trauma gown half untied around his waist, dark hair damp from either rain or sweat, beard heavier than usual after what was clearly a bad night of sleep. He looked exhausted. Irritated. Beautiful in the deeply unfair way he always managed to be while commanding a room full of terrified people.
His eyes lifted the second you walked in. The shift in his expression lasted less than a second. Surprise. Relief. Then the careful neutral mask dropped back into place so quickly you almost wondered if you imagined it.
âCardioâs here,â one of the residents announced unnecessarily.
âObviously,â Robby muttered without looking away from the patient monitor.
You ignored the comment and stepped toward the bed where a man in his forties lay pale and semi-conscious beneath warming blankets, bruising spreading darkly across his chest from the steering wheel impact.
âWhatâve we got?â you asked professionally.
âHigh-speed MVC,â Robby answered flatly. âHypotensive on arrival. Chest pain. Unequal upper extremity pressures. FAST negative.â
You reviewed the scans quickly while one of the nurses adjusted the patientâs oxygen. âCT?â
âPending because radiologyâs apparently run by raccoons.â
One of the interns choked back a laugh.
You kept your face carefully blank while flipping through images. âHas anyone started esmolol?â
Robbyâs jaw flexed slightly. âNot yet. I wanted imaging confirmation before tanking his pressure further.â
You looked up finally. âIf this is a dissection, waiting is dangerous.â
âAnd if it isnât, dropping his pressure prematurely could destabilize him.â
The room went subtly quieter. Not silent. Nobody outright stopped moving. But nurses slowed slightly. Residents suddenly became deeply interested in charts. Everyone within earshot felt the tension immediately because this was not how the two of you usually worked together. Normally consults between you flowed almost seamlessly. You challenged each other constantly, yes, but with trust underneath it. This felt sharp. Controlled. Wrong.
You stepped toward the monitor. âHis mediastinumâs widened.â
âAnd his systolicâs barely ninety.â
âYou called me down here for a reason, Robby.â
âI called cardio because trauma protocol requires cardio.â
That landed exactly how he intended it to. Clinical. Cold. Deliberately impersonal. You stared at him for a beat too long. Robby still would not fully meet your eyes.
Fine. Fine. If that was how he wanted to play this today, you could do it too.
âStart the esmolol,â you told the nurse evenly. âLow dose. Prep OR two.â
Robby folded his arms. âI disagree.â
You looked at him sharply. âExcuse me?â
âI said I disagree. We need imaging confirmation before we move him upstairs.â
âAnd if he crashes while we wait?â
âAnd if he arrests because you overcorrected his pressure?â
The nurse holding the medication looked back and forth between both of you like she was watching her divorced parents argue at a soccer game. Normally one of you would have softened by now. Normally Robby would have pulled you aside quietly and discussed options without turning it into this bizarre territorial stand-off. But you were both angry enough to keep pushing.
âYou know,â you said tightly, ânot every disagreement is a personal attack.â
Something flashed hard across Robbyâs face then.
âNo,â he said quietly. âBut apparently concern is.â
The words hit like a slap. You felt several nearby residents suddenly discover urgent reasons to leave the room. Your pulse jumped instantly because there it was. Finally. The real fight underneath the medical disagreement.
You lowered your voice dangerously. âThis is not the place.â
âThen maybe stop bringing it here.â
âOh, thatâs rich coming from you.â
âDoctors,â Dana interrupted carefully before either of you could escalate further, âradiology just confirmed CTâs open.â
Thank God. You looked away first, stepping back from the bedside while trying to shove your emotions somewhere deep enough not to interfere with patient care. The patient came first. Always. Even when your chest felt hot with anger and humiliation.
âFine,â you said curtly. âScan him. If Iâm right, he goes straight upstairs.â
Robby nodded once. âTransport now.â
The team moved quickly after that, pushing the bed toward CT while monitors rattled and rain thundered outside the ambulance bay. You stayed behind long enough to finish entering preliminary surgical notes before finally realizing the room had emptied almost completely.
Except for Robby. Of course. He stood near the supply cart pretending to review labs on the computer screen, though you knew him well enough to recognize avoidance when you saw it. The silence stretched heavy between you. You should have walked out.
Instead you heard yourself say quietly, âYou embarrassed me in there.â
Robby exhaled slowly through his nose before finally turning toward you. Up close he looked worse than you realized. Dark circles under his eyes. Exhaustion pulling at the corners of his mouth.
âYou embarrassed me first,â he replied just as quietly.
Your throat tightened despite yourself. âI didnât mean what I said this morning.â
His eyes flickered finally to yours then away again almost immediately. âYeah,â he said. âWell. You still said it.â
The hurt underneath his calm voice made your anger wobble unexpectedly. Before you could answer, another trauma alert sounded overhead. Robbyâs entire posture shifted instantly back into attending mode. You watched the emotional walls slam back into place in real time.
âRobbyââ
âI have to work,â he said, not cruelly but not softly either. âWeâll talk later.â
Then he brushed past you toward the trauma bay doors, shoulder grazing yours for less than a second. The contact was brief. Accidental maybe. But it still sent that awful familiar warmth through your chest because even angry, even hurt, your body still knew him. And somehow that made everything worse.
******
By the time your final surgery ended, the storm outside had settled into something relentless and heavy, rain pouring down the hospital windows in silver sheets that distorted the city lights into blurred halos. You should have gone home hours ago. Every muscle in your body ached with exhaustion, your neck stiff from hours bent over an open chest cavity while trying to repair a catastrophic mitral valve rupture on a seventy-three-year-old man who coded twice on the table. The surgery itself had technically been a success, but barely. The patient remained unstable in recovery and your hands still carried that faint residual tremor of adrenaline that always came after cases where death stood close enough to breathe down your neck.
The second you stepped out of the OR, the emotional exhaustion hit harder than the physical kind. Because usually after cases like that, you found Robby. Sometimes intentionally. Sometimes accidentally. But eventually one of you always gravitated toward the other. Maybe it was coffee in an empty hallway at two in the morning. Maybe it was him standing silently in your office doorway while you dictated notes. Maybe it was you slipping into the back corner of the ED just long enough to steal five minutes beside him while trauma alarms screamed around you. The point was that after hard days, your nervous systems reached for each other automatically.
Today there was only distance. You stripped off your surgical cap slowly while walking down the hallway, exhaustion dragging at your bones hard enough to make your vision blur briefly.
A nurse passed you with a sympathetic smile. âRough one?â
You huffed quietly. âYou have no idea.â
Technically you meant the surgery. Unfortunately your brain supplied Robbyâs face immediately afterward anyway. You made it halfway toward your office before abruptly changing direction. You could not sit under fluorescent lights another second. Your chest felt too tight. Your skin felt too hot. So instead you shoved open the side exit near the surgical wing and stepped beneath the small overhang outside the hospital doors.
Cold air hit your face instantly. Rain hammered against the pavement so hard it bounced back upward in misty waves, soaking the edges of your scrubs almost immediately despite the shelter overhead. Thunder rumbled somewhere far off across the city while ambulances flashed red and white against the wet parking lot below.
You leaned heavily against the brick wall near the doorway and closed your eyes. Just a minute. You only needed one minute where nobody needed anything from you. No residents asking questions. No family members begging for reassurance. No monitors alarming. No pretending you were perfectly composed while your chest quietly cracked open underneath your ribs.
Your hands shook slightly when you rubbed them over your face. The surgery should have gone smoother. You kept replaying moments in your head. The bleeding complication. The delayed rhythm recovery. The moment you genuinely thought you were going to lose him on the table. Rationally you knew the outcome was good considering the circumstances, but surgeons carried ghosts differently than other people. Every complication lived somewhere inside you afterward whether you wanted it to or not.
âYouâre gonna get pneumonia standing that close to the rain.â
Your eyes opened immediately. Of course. Robby stood just inside the doorway behind you holding two paper cups of coffee, his trauma jacket thrown over his scrubs and his hair slightly flattened from humidity. He looked exhausted too. More than exhausted honestly. Drained in that particular way emergency physicians looked after fourteen straight hours of absorbing other peopleâs disasters. For a second neither of you spoke.
The tension between you had changed shape since earlier. It still hurt. You were still angry. But exhaustion had sanded down some of the sharpest edges.
âYou stalking me now?â you asked quietly.
Robby huffed softly through his nose, stepping beside you under the overhang. âSara said you disappeared after surgery.â
Your chest tightened unexpectedly. âYou asked about me?â
âI always ask about you.â
The answer came so naturally that it hurt. Rain crashed loudly around both of you while silence settled again. You stared out at the parking lot instead of looking directly at him because eye contact felt too dangerous right now. Too intimate.
âHowâd the case end?â Robby asked after a minute, his voice gentler now.
âStable-ish.â
âThat bad?â
You nodded once. âHe arrested during closure.â
Robby went still beside you. Not dramatically. Most people would not have even noticed it. But you knew him too well not to recognize the immediate shift into concern.
âYou okay?â he asked quietly.
There it was. That stupid soft voice he used only with you. The one currently ruining your life.
You swallowed hard before answering. âIâm tired.â
Robby handed you one of the coffees without a word. Your fingers brushed briefly against his and both of you froze for the smallest fraction of a second. Even after a year together, touching him still did things to your nervous system that felt deeply unfair.
âDid you eat today?â he asked carefully.
You closed your eyes immediately. âRobby.â
âWhat? Itâs a valid question.â
âYou do realize this is part of the reason Iâm still mad at you, right?â
âI know.â
You finally looked at him then. Rainlight reflected softly across his face while tiredness pulled at the corners of his eyes. God. He looked terrible. Which probably meant you did too.
âYou look awful,â you muttered.
To your surprise, one corner of his mouth twitched slightly. âYou always say the sweetest things to me after fights.â
A reluctant laugh escaped you before you could stop it. Tiny. Brief. But real. Robbyâs expression softened instantly at the sound like his body physically could not help responding to it. That almost made you angry all over again because how dare he still look at you like that after this morning.
âYou scared me yesterday,â he admitted suddenly, staring out into the rain instead of at you. âThatâs what this was really about.â
Your fingers tightened slightly around the coffee cup.
âYou were shaking,â he continued quietly. âYou looked exhausted and dehydrated and still tried to brush it off like it was nothing. I know youâre good at what you do. I know youâre one of the best surgeons in this hospital. But sometimes it feels like you run yourself into the ground and expect everyone who loves you to just watch it happen quietly.â
The sincerity in his voice cracked something painfully open in your chest. Because underneath all the frustration sat the awful truth that Robby loved loudly. Constantly. Fiercely. Even when it came out wrong. Even when it turned into overprotectiveness or frustration or arguments in kitchens before sunrise.
You stared down into your coffee. âYou donât get to talk to me like Iâm fragile.â
âI know.â
âYou donât get to make decisions for me.â
âI know.â
âYou really pissed me off today.â
That finally pulled his eyes toward yours fully. âYeah,â he said softly. âYou pissed me off too.â
The honesty of it settled strangely warm between you despite everything. Rain thundered harder overhead. Somewhere nearby ambulance sirens wailed through the storm. The hospital doors opened briefly behind you as staff rushed past, but neither of you moved away from the other.
After a long silence, Robby spoke again. âYou know Iâm not trying to control you, right?â
You swallowed. âI know.â
âAnd you know I donât think youâre weak.â
âI know that too.â
âThen whyâd you say it?â
There it was. Finally. The real wound. Your chest tightened immediately because you knew exactly what he meant. Not the fight itself. Not the overworking argument. The father comment.
You looked away first. âBecause I knew it would hurt you.â
Robby absorbed that quietly. No defensiveness. No anger. Somehow that made it worse.
Finally he nodded once, staring back out at the rain. âOkay.â
The softness of that nearly undid you.
âIâm still mad at you,â you whispered after a long silence.
That finally made him smile faintly. Tired. Sad. Familiar. âI know.â
âAnd youâre still being annoying.â
âI know that too.â
You shook your head slightly, exhausted affection threatening dangerously at the edges of your anger. Then a trauma alarm sounded faintly inside the hospital and both of your heads turned automatically toward the doors at the exact same time. Instinct. Muscle memory. Shared purpose.
Robby sighed quietly. âDuty calls.â
You nodded once. Neither of you moved immediately though. For one suspended moment in the cold rain-drenched darkness, you simply stood beside each other shoulder to shoulder beneath the hospital overhang with unresolved hurt sitting heavy between you and love sitting even heavier underneath it.
******
The blowout happened just after midnight. Which honestly made sense because nothing good ever happened in hospitals after midnight. That was the hour where exhaustion stripped everyone down to their sharpest instincts and ugliest tempers. The hour where emotions stopped wearing professional disguises. The hour where people either became unbearably tender or absolutely brutal. Tonight, apparently, you and Robby had chosen brutal.
You were halfway through updating charts in the surgical ICU when your pager went off again.
URGENT ED CONSULT. POST-MI DISSECTION. FAMILY REFUSING SURGERY.
Your stomach immediately dropped because of course it was him again. You closed your eyes briefly before grabbing your tablet and heading downstairs. The elevator ride felt suffocatingly quiet while fluorescent lights buzzed overhead and rain continued hammering the hospital windows hard enough to sound almost violent now. You had been awake for nearly twenty hours. Your patience sat somewhere near hell.
The ED looked worse than it had earlier. More crowded. More exhausted. Nurses moved with that particular drained efficiency that only happened late into disaster shifts while attendings barked orders across overcrowded bays. Somewhere a child cried inconsolably. Somewhere else somebody screamed for pain medication.
You found Robby in Trauma Four speaking quietly with an older woman while a resident hovered nearby clutching scans against his chest. The second Robby saw you enter the room, something complicated flickered briefly across his face before flattening immediately back into professionalism.
âThis is Dr. Y/L/N,â he told the family calmly. âCardiovascular surgery.â
The patient lying in the bed looked terrible. Mid-sixties. Pale. Diaphoretic. Blood pressure barely holding despite multiple drips. You reviewed the scans quickly and immediately understood the urgency. Type A dissection. Massive. Time-sensitive.
âHe needs surgery now,â you said carefully to the family. âWithout intervention, this becomes fatal very quickly.â
The patientâs wife looked terrified. âBut he already had a heart attack this week.â
âI know,â you said gently. âBut right now surgery is his best chance.â
The patient himself looked between you and Robby with exhausted fear. âWhat are my odds?â
You hesitated because honesty mattered. âThe surgery is high-risk.â
âHow high-risk?â
You glanced at the scans again. âGiven the extent of the dissection and recent cardiac damage? Very.â
Robby shifted beside you. âBut without surgeryââ
âHe dies,â you finished quietly.
The room fell heavy with silence. You watched the wife grip her husbandâs hand harder while tears gathered in her eyes. This part never got easier. The medicine itself you could handle. It was the hope. The bargaining. The impossible decisions handed to terrified families at one in the morning under fluorescent lights. That was the part that hollowed people out.
Finally the patient whispered, âI donât know if I can survive that operation.â
You crouched slightly beside the bed so he would not have to crane his neck upward at you. âI wonât lie to you. It will be hard. But if you were my family member, I would still recommend surgery.â
The wife looked at Robby then. âWhat would you do?â
Robby paused. And that pause changed everything. Tiny. Barely noticeable. But you saw it immediately.
âYou need to understand the risks fully,â Robby said carefully. âEven getting him to the OR could destabilize him.â
Your head snapped toward him instantly. What the hell was he doing? The patientâs wife started crying harder immediately while confusion spread across the residentâs face beside you.
âDr. Robby,â you interrupted evenly, âthe dissection is actively extending.â
âI know.â
âThen we do not have time for this.â
His jaw tightened slightly. âWe also donât pressure families into decisions.â
The implication landed like gasoline on open flame.
You straightened slowly. âExcuse me?â
âIâm saying they deserve realistic expectations.â
âAnd Iâm giving them exactly that.â
The tension in the room thickened instantly. Nurses stopped moving quite as quickly. The resident holding scans suddenly looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.
You stared directly at Robby now. âYou called me down here for surgical evaluation.â
âAnd Iâm asking you to acknowledge the patient may not survive transport.â
âHe definitely wonât survive without intervention.â
âThat doesnât mean bulldozing consent.â
Your pulse spiked instantly because there it was again. That subtle criticism buried beneath his tone. Not loud. Not openly disrespectful. Somehow worse because of how controlled he stayed while saying it.
You stepped closer to him. âIf you have a problem with my recommendation, say it clearly.â
Robbyâs eyes finally locked fully onto yours. Exhaustion and frustration burned there openly now. âFine. I think youâre pushing surgery because you cannot tolerate losing.â
The words hit like a physical blow. The room went dead silent. Even the monitor alarms suddenly sounded distant beneath the roaring in your ears. You stared at him in genuine disbelief because that was not just unfair. That was cruel.
âYou do not get to say that to me in front of a patient,â you said quietly. Dangerously quietly.
âAnd you donât get to act like fear is irrational here.â
âFear is not irrational. Delaying treatment is.â
The patientâs wife looked horrified now, eyes darting between both of you while the resident practically stopped breathing altogether.
Robby ran a hand tiredly over his face. âJesus Christ,â he muttered. âYou always do this.â
âDo what?â
âYou turn every disagreement into a battlefield.â
You actually laughed then. Sharp. Disbelieving. âThat is rich coming from you.â
âAt least Iâm not pretending my ego isnât involved.â
Something inside your chest snapped hard enough to physically hurt.
âMy ego?â you repeated softly. âYou think Iâm recommending surgery because of my ego?â
âI think you hate feeling helpless.â
âAnd I think youâre so terrified of failing people that youâd rather give up before the fight even starts.â
Robby flinched. Barely. But enough. Too far. You knew it immediately. The words hung ugly and irreversible between you while hurt flashed openly across his face for the first time all night. Because there it was. The thing underneath all of this. Robbyâs worst fear. Not being enough. Not saving enough people. Carrying every death home beneath his skin until it poisoned him slowly from the inside out. Before either of you could say another word, a new voice cut sharply through the room.
âWhat the hell is going on in here?â
Chief of Surgery Dr. Brennan stood in the doorway looking exhausted and furious in equal measure. Apparently someone had finally called for backup before you and Robby burned the entire ED to the ground. Nobody answered immediately.
Brennan looked between both of you once before immediately understanding far more than he probably wanted to. âOutside. Now.â
You and Robby followed him into the hallway like scolded children while the entire nearby nursing staff suddenly became deeply fascinated by literally anything else.
The second the trauma room doors shut behind you, Brennan rounded on both of you. âAre you two out of your goddamn minds?â
Neither of you spoke.
âYou are attendings. In front of patients. In front of residents.â He pointed between both of you sharply. âI do not care what personal nonsense is happening here. You do not pull this in my emergency department.â
Heat burned hard beneath your skin. Not embarrassment exactly. Worse. Shame.
Brennan looked at the scans in your hand. âWhatâs the recommendation?â
You answered immediately. âEmergency repair.â
Robby folded his arms tightly. âTransport risk is extremely high.â
âIs surgery survivable?â Brennan asked you directly.
âPossibly.â
âAnd without surgery?â
You and Robby answered simultaneously.
âHe dies.â
Silence followed.
Brennan exhaled heavily through his nose before nodding once. âThen surgery gets offered. Fully informed consent. Family decides.â He looked at Robby. âYou good with that?â
Robbyâs jaw flexed hard. âYes.â
Brennan looked at you next. âYou?â
âYes.â
âGreat. Then both of you figure your shit out before I schedule mandatory couples therapy in conference room B.â
Despite everything, one of the nearby nurses snorted loudly.
Brennan pointed at both of you again before walking away muttering, âJesus Christ. I swear to God doctors are worse than teenagers.â
Silence settled heavily after he disappeared. You and Robby stood beside each other in the hallway without speaking while rain battered the windows nearby and overhead pages echoed through the department.
Finally you whispered without looking at him, âThat was low.â
Robby swallowed hard beside you. âYeah.â
âYou know exactly what surgery means to me.â
âI know.â
âYou know I care about these patients.â
âI know that too.â
Your throat tightened painfully. âThen why would you say that?â
Robby closed his eyes briefly before answering. âBecause I was angry.â
There it was again. The ugly truth of loving someone deeply enough to know exactly where to cut. You nodded once slowly, fighting the sudden burn behind your eyes because you absolutely refused to cry in the middle of the emergency department.
âCongratulations,â you whispered. âYou got me back.â
Then you walked away before he could answer because if you stayed another second, you might have either kissed him or shattered completely. And honestly, at this point, you were not sure which outcome would be worse.
******
The rain had not stopped by the time your shift finally ended sometime after three in the morning. If anything, it had worsened, pounding against the hospital windows with relentless force while thunder rolled low across the city like distant collapsing buildings. The entire hospital felt exhausted now. Quieter. The strange hollow stillness that settled over medical centers in the dead middle of the night after too many emergencies and too little sleep.
You should have gone home immediately. Instead you sat alone in the darkened physician locker room staring numbly at your phone for nearly ten straight minutes while your damp hair clung coldly to the back of your neck. Your fight with Robby replayed over and over in vicious little loops inside your head. His face when you accused him of giving up on patients. The hurt in his voice when he admitted you had embarrassed him. The way both of you kept reaching for the worst possible thing to say because hurting each other suddenly felt easier than admitting how terrified you both were underneath it all.
You were so tired of being angry at him. That was the problem. Anger required energy and you had none left. What remained underneath it was worse. Love. Stubborn, humiliating, relentless love that refused to disappear no matter how badly the two of you wounded each other sometimes. Your phone buzzed suddenly against your thigh.
Robby: Iâm in the parking garage.
That was it. No apology. No explanation. Just a statement. Your chest tightened instantly. For one brief second you considered ignoring him entirely. Making him wait. Making him hurt a little longer the way you had hurt all day. But even as the thought crossed your mind, you were already standing and reaching for your bag.
The elevator ride down to the garage felt strangely intimate in the middle of the night. Empty hallways. Dimmed lighting. Rain rattling against the concrete structure outside while exhaustion pulled heavily at your limbs. By the time the elevator doors slid open onto level three, your pulse had climbed painfully high.
You spotted his car immediately. Robby sat behind the wheel with one arm draped across the steering wheel and his head tipped back against the seat, eyes closed. Rain streaked across the windshield in silver rivers beneath the parking garage lights. He looked exhausted beyond words. Completely wrecked by the day.
Something inside your chest softened instantly against your own will. You climbed into the passenger seat without speaking. The door shut heavily behind you, cocooning both of you inside the quiet hum of rain and engine heat.
For a long moment neither of you said anything. Robby finally opened his eyes slowly and looked at you. Really looked at you. His gaze moved over your tired face, your damp hair, the dark circles beneath your eyes. There was so much emotion sitting openly in his expression now that the fight had finally burned itself down to ash.
âYou look exhausted,â he said quietly.
You let out a tired laugh. âYou said that this morning too.â
âYeah,â he murmured. âTurns out I was right.â
Despite yourself, your mouth twitched faintly. Silence settled again, heavy and intimate inside the dim car. Outside, thunder cracked loudly enough to vibrate faintly through the vehicle.
Then Robby said quietly, âIâm sorry.â
Your breath caught slightly.
He swallowed hard before continuing. âWhat I said downstairs about your ego was cruel and unfair and I knew it the second it came out of my mouth.â His jaw tightened. âYou fight harder for your patients than almost anyone Iâve ever met. I know that.â
You stared down at your hands because hearing him say it hurt almost worse than the argument itself.
âI wanted to hurt you back,â he admitted softly. âThatâs the truth.â
The honesty of it cracked something open inside your chest.
You nodded slowly. âI know.â
Robby rubbed tiredly at his face before looking back at you again. âAnd you were right too.â
Your eyes lifted to his immediately.
âI hate feeling helpless,â he said quietly. âI hate watching people die when I canât stop it. And sometimes when it comes to youâŠâ He exhaled shakily. âSometimes I get scared enough that it comes out wrong.â
God. There he was. Finally. No walls. No defensive sarcasm. Just Robby stripped raw and exhausted and painfully sincere.
Your throat tightened instantly. âI shouldnât have said the thing about your father.â
âNo,â he whispered. âYou shouldnât have.â
Pain flashed briefly across his face again and guilt hit you hard enough to ache physically.
âIâm sorry,â you whispered immediately. âI was angry and I wanted to wound you because youâd already gotten under my skin and I knew exactly where to aim.â Your voice shook slightly now. âIâm sorry, Robby.â
He stared at you for a long moment. Then very slowly, he reached across the center console and slid his hand against your jaw. The contact nearly undid you.
Your eyes fluttered shut immediately as his thumb brushed softly across your cheekbone. Such a gentle touch after a day spent tearing each other apart.
âI donât know how to fight with you,â he admitted quietly. âEvery time we do this, it feels like somebodyâs peeling my ribs open.â
Emotion climbed hot and painful into your throat.
âYou think I enjoy it?â you whispered.
Robby shook his head once, eyes locked on yours now. âNo.â
The air inside the car felt unbearably charged suddenly. Heavy with exhaustion and unresolved want and relief. You had spent the entire day wanting him and being furious at him simultaneously. Every sharp glance across trauma bays. Every accidental brush of shoulders. Every moment where your body still instinctively reached for him even while your pride screamed not to.
Now there was nothing left between you except inches of space and rain hammering violently around the car.
Robbyâs hand slid slowly into your damp hair at the base of your neck. âCome here,â he whispered.
That was all it took. You kissed him hard enough to make both of you gasp. The collision felt desperate immediately. Months of familiarity mixed with the rawness of the fight until neither of you seemed capable of kissing carefully anymore. Robby made a rough sound low in his throat as you grabbed fistfuls of his jacket and pulled yourself across the center console toward him.
âJesus Christ,â he breathed against your mouth. âI missed you today.â
The confession wrecked you instantly because he had been right there all day. Across hallways. Across trauma bays. Across operating rooms. And somehow you had still missed him with an ache so deep it felt physical.
You kissed him again before he could say anything else, angry and relieved and aching all at once while rain thundered against the roof overhead. Robbyâs hands slid firmly along your waist, pulling you fully into his lap despite the awkward angle between the seats.
âYou drove me insane today,â you muttered breathlessly against his mouth.
A faint laugh escaped him before he kissed you again harder. âYeah?â
âYes.â
âYou were pretty terrifying yourself, sweetheart.â
The familiar nickname after a day without it nearly melted your spine. Your fingers curled tightly into the front of his damp t-shirt while his mouth moved hot and slow against yours now, the anger finally dissolving into something deeper and heavier and infinitely more dangerous. The kind of kissing that came from knowing each other too well. From memorizing every sigh and every weakness over a year of loving someone completely.
Robbyâs forehead pressed against yours as both of you breathed hard in the dim car. His hands stayed anchored firmly at your hips like he physically needed proof you were still here.
âI love you,â he whispered suddenly. Fierce. Immediate. Like he could not hold it inside another second. âEven when you make me insane. Even when we fight like this. I love you so much it scares the hell out of me sometimes.â
Your eyes burned instantly. You kissed him again softer this time, your hand sliding against the tired stubble along his jaw.
âI love you too,â you whispered back. âEven when youâre an asshole.â
Robby huffed a quiet laugh against your lips before pulling you closer again, kissing you deep and slow while rain poured endlessly around the car and the entire exhausted city slept somewhere beyond the parking garage walls.
******
By the time you and Robby finally made it back to his apartment, the storm had settled into something almost violent. Rain lashed hard against the windows while thunder rolled low enough to shake faintly through the walls of the building. The city outside had disappeared behind sheets of gray and reflected streetlight, leaving the apartment wrapped in dim amber lamplight and exhaustion so deep it felt stitched into both of your bones.
The second the apartment door shut behind you, the silence changed. Not awkward anymore. Not angry. Just intimate in that fragile way things became after emotional devastation.
Robby dropped his keys onto the kitchen counter with a tired clatter before immediately turning back toward you like he physically could not help himself. His hands slid slowly up your arms beneath your damp coat sleeves, grounding himself in your presence. You could still feel the residual adrenaline humming beneath his skin.
âYou okay?â he asked quietly.
The question nearly made you laugh because the answer was obviously no. You were exhausted. Emotionally shredded. Running on caffeine and stubbornness and approximately forty minutes of sleep. But he asked anyway because this was who Robby was at his core. No matter how ugly things got between you, concern always came back first.
âIâm okay now,â you admitted softly.
His eyes searched yours for a long moment like he was checking whether you actually meant it. Then finally he nodded once and leaned down to press a slow kiss against your forehead. The tenderness of it hurt worse than the fighting had.
You exhaled shakily against his chest and suddenly became acutely aware of how disgusting you felt. Your skin still smelled faintly like antiseptic and surgical smoke. Your hair had dried into rain-damp waves around your shoulders. There was probably dried blood somewhere on your shoes.
âI need a shower,â you mumbled tiredly.
Robbyâs mouth brushed softly near your temple. âYeah,â he murmured. âYou do.â
You pulled back slightly then, shrugging out of your coat while exhaustion dragged heavily at your limbs. Robby took it from you automatically before his eyes flicked downward suddenly.
âHey.â
You blinked. âWhat?â
He caught your wrist gently and lifted your hand between both of you. Surgical marker still streaked darkly across your skin and fingers from the valve repair earlier. Tiny smudges of purple-black ink clung stubbornly near your knuckles and along the heel of your palm despite multiple scrubs throughout the day. You had not even noticed it was still there. Robby stared at your hand quietly for a second before something in his expression softened almost painfully.
âYouâve still got marker on you,â he said quietly.
You huffed tiredly. âOccupational hazard.â
But instead of letting go, Robby guided you silently toward the kitchen sink.
âRobbyââ
âSit.â
The gentle firmness in his voice made something warm unfurl low in your chest. Too tired to argue, you climbed onto the edge of the counter while he grabbed a washcloth and soaked it carefully beneath warm water.
The apartment felt impossibly quiet around both of you except for rain hammering against the windows and the faint hum of the kitchen lights overhead.
Robby stepped between your knees afterward and took your hand again. Neither of you spoke. He cleaned your skin slowly. Carefully. Warm water and soap worked against the stubborn surgical ink while his thumb occasionally brushed softly along your palm to steady your hand. The intimacy of it nearly destroyed you. After an entire day spent slicing each other open emotionally, here he was gently washing evidence of surgery from your skin like something sacred. Your throat tightened unexpectedly.
Robby noticed immediately because of course he did. His eyes lifted briefly toward your face. âHey.â
You shook your head once, trying to blink back the sudden sting behind your eyes. âIâm just tired.â
âNo,â he said softly. âYouâre not.â
That did it. Emotion cracked through your chest so suddenly you had to look away from him entirely.
âSeeing you pull away from me today hurt worse than the actual fighting.â Your voice came out quieter than intended. Raw. âIn the trauma room. Outside after Brennan stepped in. You looked at me likeâŠâ
You swallowed hard.
âLike you didnât know how to reach me anymore.â
Robby went completely still. Then very slowly, he set the washcloth aside and moved closer until his forehead rested gently against yours.
âI was trying not to touch you,â he admitted quietly. âThatâs why I looked like that.â
Your breath caught slightly.
He closed his eyes briefly. âI was so angry with you and all I could still think about was touching you.â One of his hands slid slowly along your thigh where you sat on the counter. âDo you know how insane that made me feel?â
Heat curled instantly low in your stomach. Robby opened his eyes again and looked wrecked by the honesty of it.
âYou were standing there yelling at me in Trauma Four and all I could think about was the fact you hadnât eaten enough and your hands were shaking after surgery.â He laughed softly without humor. âI hated you for about five minutes today and still wanted to take you home.â
Your pulse jumped hard at the confession.
âYou didnât hate me,â you whispered.
âNo,â he admitted immediately. âI didnât.â
The space between you disappeared again after that. Robby kissed you slowly this time, exhaustion and tenderness melting together beneath the storm outside while your fingers slid into the damp curls at the back of his neck. The kiss deepened naturally after a few breaths, all lingering heat and relief and familiar hunger that neither of you had managed to kill despite trying your absolute hardest all day.
His hands moved carefully along your waist beneath your shirt, warm palms against tired skin. You felt him exhale sharply when your legs opened instinctively around his hips, pulling him closer between them.
âChrist,â he murmured against your mouth. âYou have no idea what you do to me.â
A quiet laugh escaped you. âThatâs funny considering you nearly started a war in the emergency department.â
Robby groaned softly against your lips before kissing you harder. âYeah, well. Apparently emotional regulation isnât my strongest quality when it comes to you.â
âYou think?â
He smiled faintly then, tired and devastatingly handsome at once. The kind of expression that always melted your spine because nobody else got this version of him. Nobody else got the softness underneath all the sharp edges. Your hands slid beneath the hem of his t-shirt slowly, palms moving against warm skin and the tension in his back muscles. Robbyâs breathing immediately roughened.
âYouâre exhausted,â he whispered even while pulling you closer.
âSo are you.â
âYeah.â His mouth brushed your jaw slowly. âStill want you anyway.â
The honesty of it sent heat spiraling through your chest. You kissed him again deeply, fingers curling against his shoulders while thunder cracked loudly outside the apartment windows. Robby made a low sound against your mouth before lifting you carefully off the counter like it was instinct by now. Your legs wrapped automatically around his waist while he carried you down the hallway toward the bedroom with one hand secure beneath your thighs and the other pressed firmly against your back.
The room stayed dim except for stormlight filtering weakly through the curtains. Clothes ended up abandoned carelessly across the floor somewhere between kisses and exhausted laughter and soft apologies murmured against skin. Nothing rushed. Nothing frantic anymore. Just two people who had scared each other badly enough to suddenly need reassurance in every touch.
Later, long after the storm should have lulled you both to sleep, you lay tangled together beneath the blankets with your head resting against Robbyâs chest while rain continued tapping softly against the windows. His fingers moved lazily through your hair while your leg remained thrown over his waist like you were unconsciously trying to anchor him there beside you.
âI really thought I fucked this up today,â he admitted quietly into the darkness.
You tilted your head slightly against him. âWhat do you mean?â
Robby hesitated. âAfter Brennan pulled us apart.â His hand tightened faintly against your back. âYou looked at me like you were done.â
Your chest ached immediately.
âI could never be done with you,â you whispered.
He exhaled shakily against your forehead like the words physically relieved something inside him.
âI hated that we spent all day apart while standing ten feet from each other,â you admitted softly. âIt felt awful.â
âYeah,â he murmured. âIt did.â
Silence settled comfortably after that. Warm. Heavy. Safe again.
Then after a minute, Robbyâs lips brushed softly against your hair. âStill think Iâm overprotective?â
You smiled tiredly against his chest. âStill think Iâm impossible?â
His quiet laugh vibrated beneath your cheek before his arms tightened around you completely.
âYes,â he whispered. âBut I love you.â
******
You woke sometime near dawn to the sound of rain still tapping softly against the bedroom windows and the steady warmth of Robby asleep beneath you. For one disorienting second, you forgot everything. The fight. The emergency department. Brennan practically threatening to lock you both in separate corners of the hospital. Then memory returned slowly in pieces while pale gray morning light filtered through the curtains.
Robby slept on his back beside you with one arm still wrapped securely around your waist like even unconscious he refused to let you drift too far away. His hair was a mess against the pillow, his face softened completely by sleep in a way almost nobody else ever got to see. Without the constant sharpness of the ER weighing him down, he looked younger somehow. More vulnerable.
Your chest tightened painfully. Because the father comment had stayed with you all night no matter how many times he kissed you afterward. No matter how many apologies had already passed between you. That one still sat ugly and unresolved beneath your ribs.
Carefully, trying not to wake him immediately, you shifted upward against him until your cheek rested over his bare chest. His heartbeat thumped steadily beneath your ear. Warm. Familiar. Safe. God. You loved this man so much it scared you sometimes.
Your fingers drifted slowly across the light scattering of chest hair beneath your cheek before your mouth followed instinctively, pressing soft sleepy kisses against warm skin. One near his sternum. Another just beneath his collarbone. Robby stirred faintly beneath you with a low sleepy sound in his throat.
You smiled softly against his skin and kissed him again slower this time. His hand slid automatically along your back without even opening his eyes yet.
âMm,â he murmured roughly, voice thick with sleep. âThis a dream?â
A quiet laugh escaped you. âDepends.â
One brown eye blinked open slowly before the other followed. The second he focused on you stretched half on top of him, something warm and wrecked crossed his face immediately.
âHey,â he whispered.
âHey.â
His hand moved lazily along your spine beneath the oversized t-shirt you had stolen from him sometime during the night.
âWhat time is it?â
âNo idea.â
âGood.â His eyes drifted shut again briefly while his palm settled low against your back. âThen weâre not doctors right now.â
The sleepy sincerity of that almost broke your heart. You shifted higher against him until your thighs settled carefully on either side of his hips beneath the blankets. Robbyâs eyes opened fully then, attention sharpening slightly as he looked up at you straddling him in the soft gray light. His hands slid instinctively to your hips.
There it was again. That immediate response to each other. Even exhausted. Even emotionally bruised from yesterday. Your fingers brushed gently through the hair near his temple before you leaned down to kiss his collarbone slowly. Then again.
Robby exhaled quietly beneath you, fingertips tightening faintly against your hips. âYouâre being very sweet for somebody who verbally assaulted me in Trauma Four.â
You groaned softly against his skin. âDonât joke yet. Iâm trying to be emotional.â
A sleepy smile tugged at his mouth. âSorry. Continue.â
You lifted your head enough to look at him fully then and immediately the humor softened out of both of you.
âIâm really sorry,â you whispered.
Robbyâs expression gentled instantly because he knew exactly what apology this was. Your hands slid slowly across his chest while you swallowed hard.
âWhat I said about your fatherâŠâ Your voice wavered slightly. âThat was cruel. I knew exactly what it would do to you and I said it anyway because I was angry.â
Robby stayed quiet beneath you, listening carefully. Tears burned unexpectedly behind your eyes and you hated how quickly they arrived because exhaustion always stripped your emotions raw.
âYou are nothing like him,â you whispered fiercely. âNothing. You love too loudly to ever be anything like him.â
Something in Robbyâs face cracked open at that.
Your fingers curled softly against his chest. âYou take care of people. You stay. You show up every single day for everyone you love even when it destroys you sometimes.â Your voice dropped smaller. âAnd I used the worst thing I could think of against you because I wanted to hurt you back.â
Robbyâs hands tightened more firmly around your hips then, grounding both of you.
âIâm sorry,â you whispered again. âIâm so sorry, baby.â
The endearment nearly undid him visibly. You bent slowly to kiss his chest again, lingering near his heartbeat while your hips shifted unconsciously against his beneath the blankets. Robby inhaled sharply at the movement, his fingers flexing hard against your waist.
âJesus,â he murmured roughly.
But your focus stayed on him. On the apology. On the vulnerability of this moment.
You kissed slowly up the center of his chest toward his throat before whispering against his skin, âI love you so much.â
Robbyâs eyes shut briefly like the words physically hit him.
âI know we fight hard,â you continued softly. âBut I never want you questioning whether youâre loved by me. Ever.â
That finally did it. Robby sat up suddenly enough to make you gasp softly as his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. One hand slid into your hair while the other anchored firmly at your lower back, holding you against him like he physically needed the closeness.
âYouâre killing me,â he whispered against your mouth before kissing you hard.
The kiss turned heated almost immediately. Not frantic like the parking garage. Something deeper now. Slower. Intimate in a way that came from emotional honesty instead of adrenaline. Robby kissed you like he was still trying to absorb every apology and every confession straight from your lungs.
Your hips rocked instinctively against his again and the rough sound he made into your mouth sent heat spiraling low through your stomach. His hands gripped your hips harder now, guiding the movement once before his forehead dropped briefly against yours.
âYou have got to stop doing that if you want me to think coherent thoughts,â he muttered hoarsely.
A sleepy laugh escaped you before you kissed him again. âNo.â
âCruel woman.â
âYou love me.â
âUnfortunately.â
You smiled against his mouth right before Robby suddenly shifted beneath you. In one smooth motion he rolled you onto your back against the mattress, his body settling heavily between your thighs while the blankets tangled around both of you. Your breath caught instantly.
Robby hovered above you with messy curls and sleepy eyes and bare skin still warm from sleep. He looked devastating like this. Completely unguarded. One of his hands slid slowly along your thigh beneath the oversized t-shirt while his mouth moved against your jaw.
âYou know what the worst part about yesterday was?â he murmured against your skin.
Your fingers slid into his curls automatically. âWhat?â
âI couldnât touch you.â
The raw honesty in his voice sent another wave of heat through you.
Robby kissed slowly down your throat. âYou were standing five feet away from me all day and I kept thinking about this.â His hand tightened gently against your hip. âAbout getting you alone. About hearing you laugh again. About you looking at me like you are right now instead of like you wanted to kill me.â
A quiet sound escaped you as his mouth brushed your collarbone. Robby looked back up at you then, blue eyes softer now beneath all the heat.
âI love you too,â he whispered. âEven when weâre terrible at this sometimes.â
Your hands framed his face immediately. âWeâre not terrible at it.â
âNo?â
You shook your head gently. âWe just care too much.â
Something unbearably tender crossed his expression before he kissed you again slow and deep while rain continued falling softly outside and dawn crept gradually across the room around both of you.












